Midnight Call
by al-star
Summary: Sometimes the silence can be more revealing than words. For them, silence was the only option.


The phone rings. Once, twice. The young woman moans in her sleep. Three times. She opens her eyes. Four times. She sighs, but gets up. She walks slowly to her phone, because she knows the person calling won't hang up until she answers. Because she knows without a doubt who is calling. Who else would call at two in the morning? She stares at the phone for a moment and consider turning it off without answering and go back to sleep. But she sighs again and answers.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Is something wrong Colonel?"

"…How do you know it's me?"

She lets a small laugh escape her lips.

"Who else would call me this late?"

"Right…sorry."

Silence. Riza tries to straighten her bed hair and shift her weight to her left foot nervously. On the other end of the phone, Roy runs his hand through his hair and tug at his shirt. They're both nervous because they don't know where to start. Nervous, because they don't want to cross the line they drew between them. Nervous because they know that at this moment, there is no line anymore.

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, I shouldn't have called you at this hour. I'll be going now. Good night."

Riza notices the tension in his voices. She becomes even more worried, because she knows something is definitely wrong and he doesn't want to talk about it.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong if you don't want to, but please don't make it sound like everything's fine, when it's obviously not."

Another silence. She can hear Roy moving on his couch.

"It's nothing really. It's just that…I can't fall asleep, that's all. And I thought…I thought that maybe, if I talked to you, I would feel better."

Riza sighs in relief. It wasn't as bad as it could've been.

"I see. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Alright. Then let's talk about something else. But first, let me get comfortable."

He raise an eyebrow.

"Sure."

There's a silence, and then he hears ruffling noises.

"Okay, I'm all set."

"What was that?"

"My phone is not near my couch, so I just took a pillow and a blanket to be comfortable."

"You know, you don't have to do this for me. You should just go back to sleep, I'll be fine."

"Don't worry about me. I'll stay here until you fall asleep. It's my job to watch your back after all. »

"It's not your job anymore at two in the morning."

"Listen, if I didn't want to talk to you, I wouldn't have answered the phone in the first place. I'm here because I want to and because I worry about you."

Roy smiles. He was glad that he wasn't a burden to her.

"Thank you."

They don't say anything for a while. They both faintly smile, listening to each other's breath through the phone. They don't need to say anything, because after all this time, all these midnight phone calls, they know what's wrong, what should be said and what should never be. Some nights they would talk about anything, from their childhood memories together to what they ate for supper. But tonight, silence was what they needed. A silence that was heavy with unsaid things and untold feelings. But they knew, and that only mattered.

"Riza?"

At that moment, they weren't Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye anymore. They were Roy and Riza. Just a man and a woman. Broken, yes. Happy, maybe. Lonely, sometimes. In love, always. But they were no military officers, no war hero, no sharpshooter. Just a man and a woman.

"Yes?"

"You know, I…"

Silence.

"I know, Roy. Me too."

They smile. They will never say these words, because they can't, but they know. And it's enough. They end up falling asleep on the phone, far away but closer than ever.

The next day, when she wakes up, she takes the phone and listens. She hears Roy's peaceful breath and relieved, she hangs up. When he comes to her desk later that morning to give her paperwork, he leans in a bit and whisper "thank you" with a smile. She smiles back and whisper "anytime". Then, they go back to work, as always. But it's fine, because they know.


End file.
